


Severed Ties

by SaraJaye



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fratricide, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Tower of Black Winds, Pre-Relationship, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/pseuds/SaraJaye
Summary: He'd never wanted to have to kill his own flesh and blood. Ingrid finds Sylvain struggling not to break in the aftermath of battle, and wishes things didn't have to end as they did.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 118
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2019





	Severed Ties

**Author's Note:**

> _Author's choice, author's choice, sometimes there is no closure._

She knows better than anyone that Sylvain can be serious when he needs to be. That's why she's so rough on him when he acts like a fool, because she knows he can do better than that.

But right now, he's gone past serious to frighteningly somber. His childhood wasn't the easiest, and he was all too eager to help take his brother out of the picture. Of course, he and the rest of the Blue Lions had expected to merely subdue him so they could take him to the authorities. No one, Sylvain especially, had expected to see him turn into the twisted creature they had no choice but to slay.

Everyone else has gone to their rooms, trying to forget the horror they just faced. Felix shaking his head in disgust, muttering that he always knew Lord Miklan would come to no good end. Prince Dimitri, pale as a sheet, Dedue refusing to leave his side. Mercedes praying for the lost soul, because at one time that monster had still been human.

Sylvain hasn't said a word or looked at anyone since the battle ended.

Quietly, Ingrid makes her way down the corridor to his room. Students are discouraged from visiting one another after hours, but she doesn't care if anyone gives her a hard time. Her friend is in pain, and he needs _someone._ And frankly, seeing him like this is breaking her heart.

"It's open," he says, barely audible as she knocks on his door. Ingrid quietly lets herself in, finds him sitting against his bed, knees drawn to his chest with an arm wrapped around them. His other hand occasionally rakes through his limp, battle-dusty hair, and his breathing is slow and controlled. As if he were trying to keep from breaking.

She's seen him upset because of Miklan before, dozens of times. Miklan was always nothing but trouble, angry and jealous over something neither he or Sylvain could control. It was funny, Felix had a good relationship with Glen but would always pout and whine whenever Glen treated him like a child. Miklan would actively try to _kill_ Sylvain, and all Sylvain did was try to hide his fear as he explained the bruises or scratches on his arms and face.

_But even when he despised Miklan for what he'd done, had no problem with fighting him, he never wanted him to die. Especially not like that._

He looks up at her, his expression sadder and more vulnerable than she's ever seen anyone look in her life.

"Sylvain..."

"I shouldn't be surprised, right?" He shakes his head. "He always was a jealous creep, becoming a bandit seemed like the natural path for him. And then he became a monster because he couldn't handle not being special. This is the end he deserved, right? I shouldn't..."

He trails off, burying his face in his hand again, and she sits down next to him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Shouldn't what?"

"You're going to think this is stupid." He laughs bitterly. "I mean, after all he did to me, the way he disgraced the name of House Gautier, stole our relic, made a career out of hurting people-"

"Sylvain." She squeezes his shoulder. "Just tell me. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He's silent for a moment, breathing deeply, his shoulders trembling a bit as he does. He looks at her again, his eyes dark with pain.

"I thought maybe once we beat him, once we handed him off to the authorities...maybe he'd take the time to really _think_ about everything while he was under custody. Maybe he'd realize just how low he'd sunk over a stupid Crest, think about turning his life around. That...maybe he and I could at least bury the hatchet and walk away in decent terms." He shakes his head, a hollow smile crossing his face. "We'd never become friends, but he was _family,_ it would've been nice to put all of this to rest. Maybe he'd leave Fodlan and find a land to call his own somewhere else, you know?"

He pours his heart out to her about the brother who gave him nothing but torment throughout his youth. The brother he resented, had no problems fighting against, would have gladly seen rot in prison.

The brother he watched turn into a twisted creature and ended up having to put down himself. The professor, Dimitri, Annette, everyone else offered to land the final blow, but Sylvain wouldn't have it. _He's my family, he was once of House Gautier. This is my responsibility._

"I never wanted to have to _kill_ him."

And then the tears are falling, Sylvain's body trembling with quiet sobs. Ingrid immediately wraps both arms around him, holding him tightly, and he buries his face in her shoulder.

_The Crests are to blame for all of this,_ Lady Edelgard often says, and after seeing what happened tonight, Ingrid can't help but agree. Crests grant power and prestige, but at what cost? Sylvain's life had been full of violence and hatred from someone who was supposed to love him, all because Sylvain has one stupid little thing Miklan didn't.

_Just like I'm the only one in my family with a Crest, so it's up to me to secure a good marriage._

All her life she's been taught nothing but good, noble things about Crests, but right now she can't help but resent them for their existence. Sylvain is hurting more than anyone should ever have to, forced to kill his own flesh and blood over a stupid Crest.

He'd just wanted to try to end things cleanly. Some form of closure to all he'd had to put up with as a child. And he'll never have that. This is the reality of it all, and she hates it, because Sylvain doesn't deserve this.

So she hugs him as tightly as she can, letting him spend his grief into her shoulder. She can't change his reality, all she can do is be here as he struggles to come to terms with it.

He cries himself into a fitful sleep in her arms, and she doesn't have the heart to move. So they sit there, against his bed, in their dusty clothes. Her back is stiff and her arms ache, but she doesn't care. She'll care even less tomorrow morning if anyone finds her room empty and the two of them sitting here like this.

Before she falls into her own dreamless sleep, she brushes her lips against his forehead.

"I'm here. Don't ever forget that."


End file.
